Fighting the Fear
by Robbins2
Summary: Abby deals with her phobia after a nightmare and Gibbs is there to help. Contains threats of a spanking so if this is not your thing, don't read.


**Fight the Fear**

**DISCLAIMER - I don't own these characters. Sadly for me. But I get to visit with them. Happily for me!**

She knew she was awake. The terror was potent, strong enough to immobilise her but enough reason remained to cut through the fog, assuring her that the threat was imagined. Knowing that it came from within herself, a fragment of the dark theatre her subconscious mind had played out in the seconds before her wakening did little to appease the fear she still felt.

She lay perfectly still, her breathing shallow and sounding odd to her own ears. She blinked, hoping to dispel the clammy unease that still clawed at her, as though the phantoms of her nightmares were reaching from the netherworld to drag her back.

That wasn't possible, Abby knew. She was a scientist. She knew that ghosts and ghouls and haints were but the stuff of chilling fiction.

The sight of herself, deathly pale and unnaturally still on the steel of Ducky's autopsy table wasn't real either, yet the image was still vivid, as though embroidered on the inside of her eyelids.

Such was the power of the dream that she had the sense that she was lying on cold steel instead of crisp sheets. The feeling was so strong that she was suddenly galvanised out of inertia and she vaulted upwards, launching herself to her feet, only to stagger uncertainly in the curtained darkness of her bedroom.

The rug beneath her feet did little to drive back the chill that had goose bumps peppering her skin and her heart seemed to find a rhythm of its own, an unpleasant timpani that made her feel nauseous.

Abby lifted her hand, reached slowly, as though moving through treacle and her fingers found the cell phone on the nightstand.

Without looking at the device, she hit a button and lifted the phone to press it to her ear.

On the second ring, he answered. "Abby. What's wrong?"

"Gibbs. How did you know it was me? And how do you know something is wrong? Though it is. Well, not really, not like serious…"

It was undoubtedly the after effects of the nightmare but the words just poured from her in a mindless gabble. It was a release of sorts and she started to feel better. Or maybe it was the sound of his voice. Just three words and he was already making her feel safe.

He waited through the jabber. "I'm on my way."

"Where? How do you know where I am? Well, of course you do, it's four a.m. So good guess that I'd be home. Unless I was on a hot date. Though I'm in a bit of dry spell lately. And if the date was all that hot, why would I be calling you instead of doing some naughty stuff? So all things considered, not that much of a puzzle for a super perceptive special agent who just about breathes the job.." Abby realised she was talking to empty air and hit the end button.

She let herself drop back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. The sickening thudding of her heart had eased into a more comfortable rhythm but her skin was clammy and a chill seemed to have seeped into her bones.

She closed her eyes but opened them again instantly as the image of herself, skin splayed open on Ducky's autopsy table flashed as though on a video reel.

She wrapped her arms around herself and sucked in a breath.

The dream was so real. The rational scientist in her recognised that it was a dream and was but an expression of an anxiety buried in her subconscious. It was not a premonition and Abby was assured of this because she knew that there was no evidence to support the existence of such a phenomenon.

It was one thing to know all of this on a starkly scientific level. It was quite another to know it in the weak predawn light, when she was alone and scared out of her wits.

Gibbs pulled up in her drive and stepped out of his car, closing the door soundlessly behind him. Hers was the only other one in the drive.

He took the steps to her front door two at a time and used his key to open it. He rarely let himself into her home but her voice had been so plaintive, so afraid. Whatever had gotten her into that state, Gibbs had no intention of announcing a warning of his arrival by knocking on the door.

He found her sitting hunched on the side of her bed. The bedclothes were in a tangled jumble, no doubt from a hasty exit from the bed. When had she stopped sleeping in the casket she loved so much?

The sight of her looking so lost tore at his heart. He crossed the room in two quick strides and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She didn't need to look up to know it was him. She would have known the sound of his footstep anywhere.

"I died," she said and her voice was devoid of any emotion. He moved forward and hunkered down before her, taking her hands in his, alarmed at how cold they felt.

Her head was bowed and a curtain of dark hair shadowed her face but he looked closely to see if she was actually ill.

"Tell me about it."

Abby felt a silly gratitude course through her and she rose her eyes to find his. He didn't laugh. He didn't dismiss her. Of course he didn't. He was Gibbs.

She leaned forward and let her forehead come to rest against his.

"Ducky cut me. I saw it all, Gibbs," the sickness and fear crashed back, bringing a fresh wave of nausea and she swallowed, fighting the tears that burned her eyes.

His hand came around to cup her head and his fingers rubbed gently against her scalp.

"Nightmare?"

She gulped. "It was so real. I can still see my own organs."

"Do you know why I build boats, Abs?" he asked quietly. She sniffed. "You're good with your hands. It relaxes you. And you know women who find the scent of sawdust a turn on," she answered and his lips rose in a smile she couldn't see but she felt.

He rose but only to take a place beside her on the messy bed. He lifted an arm to wrap it around her and draw her against him. She went willingly and let her head rest in the cradle of his shoulder.

"There's something about the sea. It is never the same colour twice. And you never know where the tide will take you. You just set your course and let the winds guide you. On a good day, you can almost see the air, lifting those waves, swirling the clouds. At night, there are stars and the sky is huge and dark and unknowable," his voice was a balm on the scars the nightmare had carved into her thoughts.

"Sounds peaceful," Abby had never been sailing but for one second she could almost see the twinkle of those stars.

"Soon as I lay my hand on a good piece of timber, I can see the boat on the water, chasing the blues and greens of the waves. I can see the sun on the brass of her fittings and I can see the furl of her sails as they open to the wind."

For several seconds, Abby didn't realise her eyes were closed. It was only when she opened them and felt the ephemeral image of the white schooner she was picturing fade that it dawned on her that the disturbing flashes of her own autopsy had been supplanted.

She shot him a sideways glance. "You're telling me this to make me feel better."

She sounded as though he was trying to trick her, which he supposed in a way, he was.

"Yes I am."

"Is it true?"

He nodded once. "Yes it is."  
>A shudder passed through her. There was no one else she would have let see her this way. He never made her feel insignificant. Of course he didn't, he was Gibbs.<p>

"I can't face the autopsy suite Gibbs. I can't go in there," flames of panic licked the edges of her consciousness. He held her closer and she let his strength drive back the burn of the fear.

"So you don't have to. Not until you are ready."

He wasn't telling her to pull herself together. That she would have to do her job and stupid fears had no place at the base.

Again gratitude, pure and joyous consumed her. The absence of judgement soothed her in ways she couldn't fathom.

He felt her leaning against him more heavily, knew sleep was not far way.

He lifted a little away from her but used the arm around her shoulders to ease her back against the pillow.

"Gibbs. Will you stay?"

"I'll be here when you wake up. Sleep now, Abby."

He lifted her feet onto the mattress and pulled the duvet over her. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead even as her eyelids drooped.

When Abby's eyes fluttered open, the light was strong behind the blind on her window. A glance at her alarm told her it was almost seven.

She aroma of warm butter reached her and had her climbing from her bed to follow it along the hall and into her kitchen where she found Gibbs turning pancakes out of a skillet onto plates he had set out on her counter.

"Just in time. Sit and eat," he glanced briefly at her.

She gave him a bemused look. "Gibbs. I never have breakfast."

"You do now," his tone didn't leave much room for debate. Still, she lingered and this time, the blue eyes found her and there was a warning in them.

"There is another way to start the day, if you prefer. You can skip the pancakes and have a spanking instead."

She figured time was running out fast on the pancake option, so she hurried to a stool and lifted a forkful of the fluffy pancake.

He gave a quick nod of approval and chuckled. "Good choice."

He replaced the skillet on the stove and took his own place at the counter.

"So how are you feeling this morning, Abs?" Her colour was back to normal, he noted, that had to be a good thing. And she was tucking heartily into her breakfast.

"Good. At least I don't feel all dead. Which is a definite improvement. And you're here and you made me breakfast and that just makes me feel pretty damn good too."

She was sounding very much like her normal, cheerful self too and that was the give away. He tilted his head and let his gaze rest on her. The blue eyes were full of gentle concern.

"Abs."

She chewed on the food and kept her eyes averted but she could feel his stare like heat on the top of her head. He wasn't fooled. Of course he wasn't. He was Gibbs.

"I don't know why I got so freaked. It was stupid nightmare. But, Gibbs it was so real. I can still see…"

She shivered at the flash of rendered skin that flitted across her mind.

"Hey." He reached across and took her chin in his hand, lifting her face so he could look in her eyes.

"You are very much alive. And you will be staying that way for a very long time." His voice was soft but earnest and acted to quell the chills that were dancing along her spine.

"Thank you, for coming over. And for staying. And for breakfast. And Gibbs. Thank you for understanding."

She gave him a smile and this time, it was the real Abby. He gave brief nod and returned to his breakfast.

By eight, she was in her lab and in these surroundings, more familiar to her than her childhood home, Abby began to truly feel like her old self.

In fact by mid-day, the memory of the nightmare had recessed to the status of a distant dream, leaving only the faint traces of distaste.

By late afternoon, it was as good as forgotten, especially when Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was in the lab recounting how Gibbs had called McGee 'Elf lord".

It was only when they were about to get on the elevator to the morgue that Abby hesitated, vestiges of the nightmare returning like images on flash cards.

"What's up, Abby? Remembering the old elf lord's moves? Cause you look like you just seen a ghost and let's face it, nothing could be ghostlier than the sight of McGee first thing in the morning," DiNozzo gave her a puzzled look.

There was no way Abby could tell him she afraid to go to the autopsy suite. No way to tell him that she couldn't go down there, not when Ducky had some slides for her to examine.

So, when the steel doors slid open, Abby stepped into the box, though her legs had suddenly started to feel wooden.

Tony watched her, taken aback at the sudden change in her demeanour. "Yeah. McGee in his shorts. I'd be shaken up myself if I'd ever had to set my eyes on that picture postcard," he said, more to fill the silence than anything.

Except that Abby could no longer hear him. Her senses were filled with the smell of formaldehyde and the whine of a buzz saw.

If her arms had not become too heavy to lift, she would have pressed her hands to her ears to drown out that dreadful, hateful sound.

The elevator opened with a crisp ding and DiNozzo strode forward, not realising for several moments that Abby hadn't moved.

Gibbs was standing before the light boxes, his back to the elevator, his concentration focused on the Xrays Ducky was examining.

"Multiple fractures to the left clavicle. His arm would have been useless, Jethro," Ducky was saying.

"Got fresh tyre tracks, Boss. Found just behind the warehouse. Abby's gonna have a run at 'em. See if they match the ones on our friend here," Tony nodded towards the body laid out on the steel table.

Tony turned, expecting Abby to be beside him. He frowned at the vacant space where the Goth girl should be.

Gibbs turned also, his own brows knitting together at DiNozzo's sudden quiet.

Then, all three men directed a look to the elevator but before either Ducky or Tony had time to react, Gibbs was already moving.

"Abby?" he practically ran to the elevator, his arms open, reaching for her.

The doctor and Tony watched, nonplussed as he gathered Abby's utterly still form against him, positioning himself so his body blocked her view of the table.

He shot a look back over his shoulder at his agent and Tony almost quailed from the anger he saw in his eyes. "Did you bring her here?" Gibbs demanded but before Tony formed an answer, Abby let out a keening wail that shocked them all.

Gibbs attention returned to her. He took her by the shoulders and shook her, none too gently. "Abby. Enough."

The barked command silenced her and her eyes locked on his. He drew a relieved breath when he saw her pupils focus. Saw recognition dawn.

Then the green eyes were drowning in tears she wouldn't let fall and he hit the button and the doors closed as the elevator made its ascent.

In the pristine pathology department Special Agent DiNozzo and Dr. Mallard watched the steel panels for several beats, both trying to process what they had just seen.

"I don't know what just happened but I have a feeling that I am in deep excrement," Tony said. "It appears so, dear boy," Ducky's serene agreement did little to comfort the unsettled agent.

The only thing keeping Abby upright was the hold Gibbs had on her.

Trembles wracked her body and her stomach roiled. Breath did not come easy but he kept talking to her, his voice low and quiet, murmuring how she was going to be okay and he had her safe.

The doors opened and her brightly lit lab stretched before them.

It was strangely foreign territory to Abby now, as if a planetary change had occurred in the moments she had been gone.

He led her to a chair and lowered her into it, staying directly within her line of vision.

"Abby, look at me. You are okay now, do you hear me?" He looked intently at her, worry causing his brow to furrow. The cries she had made in the elevator had rocked him to his core. There was such pain in those sounds that he felt physical hurt to think of them.

Abby felt like her entire body was under siege. The smell of the chemicals, the sound of tools of death, the taste of decay, the cold of the steel, the sights of ripped flesh, the assault left her weak and empty. She wondered if she was actually dying and then she felt his arms around her, his warmth driving back the deathly cold, his voice slaying the demons of her nightmare.

Her head rested on his shoulder and he rubbed circles on her back, holding her as though she might break in his hands.

"Gibbs?" At last, she found her voice.

"It's me, Abs." he murmured.

"It is. It's you. I'm okay" she affirmed and lifted her head to look around the lab, seeing it as if for the first time.

He was quiet, waiting for her to calm and then, he cupped her face in his hands, looking her over for signs of shock.

Her colour was returning and the shivering had eased to an occasional tremble.

"Why did you go down there, Abby?" he asked. "I'm not exactly sure. I just forgot. The dream seemed far away and I was going to collect some slides with DiNozzo and suddenly I was there and it wasn't that petty officer on the table, it was me and I couldn't think straight," she admitted.

"You don't go back there until you can face it," Gibbs looked at her and she felt a slight flush burn her face.

"But how am I supposed to do my job? I am no good to you if I can't be professional, Gibbs," she protested.

"I wasn't asking, Abs," he narrowed his eyes and she bit her lip.

"Oh."

"You don't need to prove how tough you are, to me or anyone else. Am I clear, Abby?" He gave her the Gibbs glare for effect but she already nodding her acquiescence.

"Gibbs? It wasn't Tony's fault. Please don't be mad at him," she gave him her best pleading look and he stifled a smile.

"Don't be mad at DiNozzo. Ok, So is it you I should be mad at? What did I tell you last night?"

"Not to go back until I was ready," she answered even as she dropped her eyes to study her shoes.

"That's right. But you went anyway. Is that going to be a regular thing now?" he bent his head to catch her eyes.

"No Gibbs. I promise and Tony didn't even know," she was shaking her head and his eyes twinkled gently at her worry for her friend.

"I know. He gets a pass, Abby. As do you. This time. But I catch you looking in the direction of autopsy until we have this fear conquered and you will be going over my knee and you won't like it much."

His eyes were kind but his tone was firm with a resolve she knew better than to question.

"Gibbs. Would it be okay if I hugged you now?"

Her arms were already tight around his neck.

"Abby, you never have to ask," he whispered as he circled her in his arms.


End file.
